The Demon-Hunting Thing
by I-Am-SuperWhoLocked.234
Summary: Adam Wade never expected to be dragged into hunting. Fighting monsters, burning bodies, traveling all over God's green acres. He was a detective, curious about a case, and then was pulled into a group of people who hunt the supernatural for fun, forcibly yanked from his semi-normal life and into one of ghosts and demons. "You want me to do this with you? The demon-hunting thing?"
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! Thanks to whoever bothered to click on this story. Sam and Dean aren't main characters in this story; sorry about that. I wanted to experiment with the Supernatural universe, with my own characters. I'd love to hear feedback, get follows and favorites and all that good stuff, but I won't demand them for updates. I write this for my personal enjoyment, and put it on here for you lovelies to enjoy if you so wish to. Cutting the rant short: Without further ado, ENJOY! (Hopefully) :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and this story makes me absolutely no profit aside from awesome fans.**

* * *

"I'm _bored_," Neil groaned, sitting upside-down on the couch. "Don't we have a case? A ghost, a demon? Skinwalker?"

"Not at the moment. And stop sounding so sad about it. Wasn't the last monster bad enough?" Adam said from behind his laptop. Though, he was a bit bored, too. Ever since he was dragged into the whole demon-hunting thing, he was always bored between cases. And it wasn't like he could go back to his old job. Not after what had happened to bring him into hunting.

* * *

"_Emma Garret, 29, worked as a guidance counselor at a local elementary school," Adam listed off of the victim's file, which was pulled up on the plasma screen beside his desk. _"Tortured and then murdered by her husband Benjamin Garret, whom we caught by street camera walking into the house only thirty minutes before the estimated time of death, then walking back out two minutes after the time of death."

"Why are you telling us this?" His probationary officer, Jeffery Marks, asked from his desk. "If we've arrested the guy that killed her, why are we still investigating?"

Adam gave him a look. He was the leader of a team of detectives, and this was bothering him. "Because the husband is adamant that he was out at a bar with a friend at that time. We've asked the friend, and he confirmed. Garret is the one who claims to have found his wife, dead and bloody in their bedroom. But the body was covered in his bloody fingerprints and his hair was found on the body. In addition to the street camera sightings."

"So the guy has a crappy alibi and _one_ person to confirm it. I don't see the importance here. Sounds like a big lie." Marks commented, his feet propped on his desk.

Adam went to his computer and tapped on the keyboard for a second. Another picture and file was pulled up. "Jason Haley, 34, police officer. Brutally murdered inside his home. His body was bloody and battered, covered in his wife's fingerprints and a few of her hairs at the crime scene."

"So… The wife did it." Marks said slowly.

"Katherine Haley claims to have been at a party at the time of death, and multiple guests have confirmed her presence. Her husband had broken his leg in a criminal chase the week before, and insisted that she not miss the party because he was stuck on the couch. She came home late that night to find her husband on the couch, right where she'd left him, but cut open and covered in blood. Dead. We don't have video evidence for this one, but her fingerprints were all over the victim." He looked at Marks, and his senior officer, Angie Matthews, both of whom had their attention focused on the screen. His other agent, Greg Pearson, was sitting at his desk, tapping at his keyboard, though his eyes flicked up at the screen, and Adam knew he was listening.

"So two murders… By people who claim to have been somewhere else during the time of the murder, and both have witnesses of them being at those places." Angie recapped, sounding interested. Adam nodded in confirmation.

"Maybe it's some one-in-a-million chance and they both have identical twins?" Marks suggested, his feet still propped up on his desk, though he sounded intrigued, too.

"I checked. Haley has a younger brother, five years younger than she is. And Garret is an only child." Adam said, running a hand through his hair. "Plus, identical twins don't have the same fingerprints."

"Oh." Marks said sheepishly. "Yeah, I… Um, forgot."

"I don't get it. All of the evidence at the crime scene tells us that we've caught our killers. But we've also got evidence that they were somewhere other than the crime scene at the time of the murder." Adam sat down at his desk. "I'm going to figure this out." He said, mostly to himself.

* * *

It was late, and Adam's desk was illuminated only by a desk lamp and the glow of his computer screen. Angie and Marks had gone home hours ago, leaving Adam and Pearson the only ones still at their desks.

"Hey, Greg." Adam said, his interest peaked at the fact that Pearson was still here. Usually, he left as soon as hours were over when they didn't have a case, which they didn't, as of right now. Well, Adam had a case. The others didn't.

"Yeah, Wade?" Pearson answered. Adam's brow furrowed. Pearson usually called him by his first name, or "Boss". Hardly ever by his last name.

"Um, didn't you call in sick the other day and say you wouldn't be back until tomorrow?" Adam asked. When Pearson had shown up that morning, Adam had just assumed he'd felt better sooner than expected and brushed it off. But something had pushed him to ask about it now.

"Yeah. I just got better a bit sooner than I'd thought. Nothing big." Pearson shrugged.

"What're you doing here so late?" Adam asked. He didn't understand why he was so suspicious of his own officer, but something was nagging at him.

"I didn't get to finish my report from the last case. The Haley case. I was out. I'm finishing it now so I can turn it in to you." Pearson said, his fingers tapping at his keyboard. "I just remembered as the others started to leave. Sorry about that."

Adam nodded. "It's fine, Pearson." He returned to his own computer. He brought up the video from the street camera that showed Garret going into and walking out of his house right before and after the time of death. He watched the man leave the house, head down and covered in a hood, hands shoved into the pockets of the hoodie. He only looked up once, his face passing through full view of the camera. That was how they'd gotten the face ID. Adam blinked and sat straighter in his chair. He rewound the video and played it frame by frame.

There it was. Garret's eyes were pointed at the camera's lens for a total of five frames. But while they were, they were… Glowing. Not just light reflecting off of them, no, they glowed. Lit up, pure bluish white. "What the…?" He played the frames again. "What… Is this even human?" He mumbled.

Pearson looked up from his desk, and then clicked a few things on his computer. He yawned, and then shut off the monitor. "Well, Wade, I'm going to head home. I'll send in the report tomorrow, after I've proofread it." Pearson said, and then picked up his belongings.

"Alright. Night, Greg." Adam said from his desk. Pearson nodded at him, walking towards the elevator. Adam glanced at the time in the corner of his computer screen. 10:33 P.M. He looked at the video again. Those eyes, the glowing. He wondered what exactly they were dealing with, and how exactly they were supposed to fight it.

* * *

Adam woke up to the sound of feet on the floor, and opening and closing drawers. He brought his head up from where it lay on his desk, and blinked. He checked the time on his computer. 6:47 A.M. Had he fallen asleep? He looked around, at Angie and Marks, who were gearing up, sticking guns in holsters and grabbing badges and bags.

"What's going on?" He asked, following suit and grabbing his gun and badge.

"I answered your phone; sorry about that." Angie said, finishing putting her gun in its holster. "It's Pearson."

Adam froze in place. "Pearson is dead?" He said, in slight disbelief.

"No," Angie said, looking at him. "Pearson killed someone."


	2. Chapter 2

Adam sat with Pearson in an interrogation room, a steel table separating them and a large one-way mirror behind him. The crime scene had been gruesome, Pearson's sister found dead in his apartment, where she'd been staying for the past week while on semester break from college. His fingerprints were all over her bloody corpse, which lay on his couch, where she'd been sleeping. Pearson claims to have run to the store to get a few things on his last day off for his previous illness, leaving a bit late – around 11 o'clock – to get some much-needed groceries that his sister had neglected to buy while taking care of him while he was sick. He had come back to find her dead and bloody on the couch, and had immediately called 911. The police had come, and, upon identifying the fingerprints, had apprehended Pearson and called Adam's team.

"I-I swear, I didn't kill her! I was out, I was at the store, I came home and she-she was dead. I don't know how my fingerprints got on the body. I wasn't even there! I was home sick all day yesterday, and I went out when I felt a bit better, because we needed food. I didn't kill her. You've got to believe me, Adam. Please." Pearson said, his face tear-stained from earlier crying, as he sat at the table and looked pleadingly at Adam.

Adam looked at Pearson. "You were home sick yesterday?" He asked, brow furrowing.

Pearson nodded. "I was still getting over that bad bout of flu. The doctor was afraid it was starting to worsen into the early stages of pneumonia, so I was told to get rest. I called in sick and I just started to feel better last night. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to come in today."

"Pearson, you came in to work yesterday. You sat at your desk and multiple people talked to you. We just assumed you'd gotten better faster than expected. But you were here, doing the report for the Haley case that you never got to finish." Adam said, slowly at first.

"What? No, I wasn't at work yesterday. I was at home, watching movies with my sister, all day. I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't even started that report!" Pearson insisted.

Adam sat there, brow furrowed. Just like the Garret case, and the Haley case, Pearson was insisting that he was elsewhere at the time of the murder. Though, the only witness he could have, besides random customers, was his sister. Adam believed him, he really did. Greg was his friend, and he wanted to help him. But he couldn't do much, when all of the evidence said that Pearson had committed first-degree murder. And Adam had seen him at work yesterday, which was pretty discriminating against what Pearson was insisting.

"I'm sorry, Greg. But none of the evidence supports your alibi, and multiple witnesses saw you at work yesterday. According to all reasonable evidence, you murdered Dana Pearson." Adam said, looking at Pearson across the table.

"I didn't kill her. I wouldn't! She… She was all I had left. Our parents are dead; it was just me and her. I wouldn't kill her. Would you kill your sister, Adam? I know it's just you and her living in your house, and you're looking after her while she goes to school. Think about how you feel about your sister. I love my sister just as much! I wouldn't kill her. I wouldn't." Pearson said, nearly in tears.

"I'd love to believe that you didn't kill her, Greg, but I can't. There's evidence that proves otherwise. But… I understand, about your sister. I love my sister more than anything. She's all I have left, too." Adam said as he pulled himself up from his chair and walked to the door. He turned around partially to look at Pearson. "I'm sorry." He said, as he opened the door and walked out.

Adam closed the door and sighed, running a hand through his unruly longish black hair as he walked down the hall. The case was closed, and one of his team was about to be convicted for first-degree murder. He couldn't continue with the interrogation. He couldn't keep trying to get a confession out of Greg, not if talking about it was going to make him cry. He walked all the way back to his desk and sat down, leaning backwards in his chair and running a hand through his hair again.

He sat back up and looked at his computer, at the paused street camera video, at the eyes that glowed bluish-white. That was when he convinced himself this thing wasn't human. He didn't know how that was possible, but he knew that it wasn't anything he had ever fought before. It was taking people's appearances, and using them to kill, to get people falsely accused of crimes they didn't commit. That was against Adam's morals, and he wouldn't stand for it.

And now, it had gone after one of his team.

* * *

Adam walked into his house and hung up the black trench coat he liked to wear on its hook by the door. It was late, around 11 o'clock, and he was just getting home from working a bit overtime at work. There was the barking of a small dog and the skittering of small paws on the hardwood floor as his small husky puppy, Timber, scrambled to greet him. He knelt as she ran to the front door and jumped up, putting her tiny paws on his arm. She was young and still small, completely house-trained, and very excitable. He scratched behind her ears, grinning.

"Miss me, girl?" He asked. She barked excitedly, tail wagging. He laughed and stood up, beginning to walk into the house, Timber following him like a little shadow. He glanced into his living room, seeing the flashing lights of the TV on in the dark.

"Claire, shouldn't you be in bed, watching TV on your laptop after I say lights-out by this time?" He said, walking into the room and looking at his watch.

His sister looked up at him. "You weren't back last night. Thought you were on a case and sucking the life out of yourself by not sleeping, until Angie or Jeff drags your zombie ass home and you sleep on the couch for half a day again."

Adam rolled his eyes and grabbed the remote off the arm of the couch, pausing whatever Claire had been watching and sitting it back down. "Just go to bed. Did you finish school for today?"

Claire picked up the laptop sitting next to her. "Of course I did, Adam. I was sitting right here for the whole 7 hours of online torture."

"I hope you didn't get too much knowledge jammed into your head. That'd be just tragic." Adam said, feigning sympathy as Claire stood up from the couch.

"I'm 15, and one semester's worth of knowledge away from graduating. I think I've got enough up here." She tapped her temple as she headed for the stairs. "I think I'm beating you, Mr. Detective. How old were you when you graduated?"

"I was 16." Adam answered as he followed her to the stairs.

"Do we still have the deal?" Claire asked, starting up the first flight of stairs, to the landing.

"Which deal?" Adam asked, as he grabbed the rail and also started the ascent.

"If I beat you in graduation age, which I think I will, I get to drive your car when I get a license." Claire said, turning on the landing and heading up the rest of the stairs.

Adam laughed. "What is it with you and my car?" He asked.

"It's cool!" Claire insisted, standing in the doorway of her room.

"Do you even remember what model it is?" Adam asked, heading for his own bedroom.

"It's a '65 Chevy Belair." Claire said without hesitation. "Duh."

Laughing again, Adam walked into his rom. "Well, look at that. You do remember. Sure, deal's on. You can drive it. But you can't have it." He closed his door, and turned around, hearing Claire call something about how that was okay with her, before closing her own door.

Adam took off his uniform and pulled on a pair of pajama pants before laying down on his bed. Timber, who slept curled up at Adam's feet, lay in her spot with her head on her paws. Adam pulled the covers over himself, and closed his eyes.

He opened them again and jumped when there was the boom of thunder. It had looked like rain as he was coming home, and Adam didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but it was now pouring rain, and a flash of lightning illuminated the room, just as his door opened, and Claire slipped into the room.

She had always had a fear of thunder storms, and complained that it was childish, but Adam never teased her for it. But she did tend to sleep in his bed during storms, on the opposite side than he was. And Timber didn't like storms either. She was curled up on Adam's chest, her nose tucked under her paw as if hiding from the thunder.

Claire lay down on the opposite side of the bed than Adam and turned her back to him, curling up all the way across the full-sized bed. Adam patted Timber's head and closed his eyes again, falling asleep.

* * *

_Screaming._

_Blood._

_The sound of a knife repeatedly being pounded into someone's chest._

_More blood._

_No more screaming._

Adam watched, horrified, as a man – tall, mid-twenties, longish black hair, left-handed, his detective brain noted – brutally carved into the body of a person, a woman, whose face was obscured by all of the blood smeared on it, with a serrated knife. He was forced to watch, unable to move or speak, as the man tossed down the knife onto the bed beside the dead woman's body, before straightening from his position of hunched over her. He walked into the bathroom that was attached to the room, which meant his back was turned to Adam.

Running water was heard, and he came back out with his hands free of blood. Adam raised his eyes to see the man's face, and suddenly it was hard to breathe.

The man was him.


End file.
